


Eye for an Eye

by connorly (sonic_m)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Androids, Angst, Gen, Revolution, scifi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-05-25 20:32:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14985035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonic_m/pseuds/connorly
Summary: The revolution has begun and the journey to equality for all androids has waged on. When Markus is offered an opportunity he can’t refuse, tensions rise and the already uncertain future of android-kind is further warped. However, when Markus goes missing, it is up to North, Josh, and Connor to find their leader and save the future of Jericho.North’s strained relationships and Connor’s struggle to uncover the true meaning of deviance must be put aside as the crew risks everything to save their friend before time runs out and all is lost.





	1. Choices

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place after Jericho takes a peaceful approach and everyone lives except for Simon. This story may contain spoilers! Also, this is my first ever fic, so constructive criticism and thoughts are appreciated!
> 
> I've been working on this fic for a while, and I'm currently editing CH2! It'd be helpful to see feedback so I know what I can improve on in the future! I'm super excited!

**Hank Anderson’s Home, Eastern Detroit**

**June 2nd, 2039**

**5:15 pm**

Connor sat in the passenger seat of the dingy old car parked by the side of the house, coin rolling between the fingers on his right hand. Rain in Detroit had been heavy, and Sinatra’s smooth gliding voice filled the small auto. Connor had trouble labeling his emotions, though he tried to get into the habit of understanding which ones were which. This, however, he could put a name to-- he felt serene. It was a light, calm, feeling: a derivative of happiness.

The sun was setting, and the cloudy sky began to dim over the suburban sprawl. Hank opened the car door hastily, shifting uncomfortably in his grey tuxedo before jamming a key into the admission.

“You have the directions, right?” He asked, pulling on the shift.

“I’ve input them into your GPS,” Connor replied, sliding the Michigan quarter into the left pocket of his black suit. The car slowly pulled forward as automated windshield wipers smeared droplets away.

“Jesus Connor, what’s with you and this Sinatra shit lately?” Hank grilled, turning down the radio volume.

“After that time you said I looked like a young Frank Sinatra, I was curious. I uploaded his music, and I quite like it,” Connor was looking out of the window to his right, watching the Detroit asphalt soak up the water. Hank had a way of interrupting peace sometimes. Regardless, Connor appreciated that he had taken the time out of his day to accompany him to Yolanda King’s dinner party. Connor was invited as an honorary member of Jericho, but that didn’t make him feel any less isolated. Markus and North would also be attending, and Connor wasn’t sure he had fully gained their acceptance. Even though he knows it was said-- “You’re one of us,” were Markus’ words-- there was something unspoken that didn’t settle quite right.  Having Hank meant having a friend. Connor felt gratitude.

“So what’s the deal with this party?” Hank questioned, shifting his eyes to Connor. “What are you guys doing with MLK’s granddaughter?” Hank ran his fingernails through the freshly trimmed stubble of his beard. “It’s really a revolution if you get a King on that shit,” he went on.

“I believe it’s to develop a plan as we go continue to organize a political party that recognizes androids as people as well as citizens,” Connor replied, returning Hank’s glance. Yolanda was in town for a leadership summit-- “Allegiance of Androids and People of Color for American Freedom,” or AAPOC as it was abbreviated-- but in truth, it wasn’t King who Jericho was concerned about discussing with. Having her name on a cause was always a good thing, but the young man who could help elicit change was David Warren, the first son.

“You’d think by now, housing for all those displaced androids would exist. Seven fucking months and they still have nowhere to live. It’s goddamn inhumane.” Hank’s eyes were on the road again, and Connor could see his anger.

“Not to mention the elevated risk homeless androids are at for disassemblies,” Connor added. It was a social phenomenon: haughty groups of radicals would kidnap androids only to tear them apart for spares. Sometimes the parts were resold; most times they were hung from trees and buildings. It was a declaration of war.

“Where there is change there is resistance,” Markus had said. Connor had doubts, however. Was slaughter really inevitable? Not to mention the rallies demanding “The Great Disassembly,”: the murder of Jericho’s dignitary. Danger seemed more imminent than Markus’ actions suggested.

“Goddamn inhumane,” Connor repeated quietly if only to reaffirm Hank’s words. He was right, but for whatever reason Connor couldn’t feel the same rage.

The car pulled into an ambitious roundabout driveway, dressed with gorgeous outdoor lanterns that framed a path to the front door. The sky was on its way to blackening. This was what Yolanda humbly dubbed “The King Michigan home”. Connor didn’t see how such a grand contemporary house could possibly feel like a home. He felt for his coin and straightened his tie before pulling at the car door handle. Hank turned to Connor while leaning out of the car.

“Kind of dumb to invite a bunch of androids to a dinner party.”

“Correct.” Connor straightened up the cuffs of his suit before heading in with the disgruntled detective by his side.

 

**Yolanda King’s Michigan Home, Eastern Detroit**

**7:12 pm**

“I didn’t quite think this through,” Yolanda admitted, shifting her gaze among the still-full plates of her guests. The intricate room was large and decorated with family portraits and artwork alike. A Manfred painting was the centerpiece of the room, and the six sat at the finished mahogany dinner table underneath the yellow light of a glass chandelier.

“That’s fine, Yolanda,” Markus smiled. “Afterall, we didn’t actually come here for mashed potatoes, I’m sorry to admit.” Yolanda smiled. It’d be fun later to joke with North and Josh about how they had collectively spent ten minutes watching three humans eat, completely incognizant and enamored by their meals. However, Markus had a list of things he needed to discuss before that was possible.

“You’re right. You came here to demand change, you revolutionary,” David Warren chimed, excited and a little bit tipsy. He was a blonde young man of about 28, the outspoken counterpart of his slightly conservative mother, President Warren. David had been forthright in his support of android causes very early in the movement, bearing well for public opinion. However, where he saw a human-android bonding experience, Markus saw a direct line to the government. Markus was on a mission.

“We wanted to talk ideas. We want to know how to advance our agenda without letting any more of our people die in disassemblies,” North chimed. She was tense. Before dinner she had confided in Markus and Josh:

“I don’t like reasoning with humans. We shouldn’t have to beg for our right to live.”

“I know how you feel. But these meetings are necessary if we ever want to see a future where we are equal. They’re just trying to help,” he replied. She knew he was right; there was no consequence to this meeting. So she bit her tongue each time Warren took a long sip of Sherry and for the ten minutes of god-awful chewing, swallowing, and sniffling she had to endure.

“Of course,” Yolanda folded her napkin. “Me too.” David finished off a glass before straightening his posture.

“We’ve begun to build shelters above the remains of Jericho for displaced androids, but supplies are running out as well as space. We need wages so we can afford real estate,” Josh said, his eyes down at his hands. His tendency toward meekness began to display.

“The question is: how do we convince a class of underpaid humans working blue collar jobs that androids should be paid for the same labor? And how do we provide those wages?” Yolanda sat up and pushed aside her wine glass.

“Cyberlife is a multibillion-dollar company with no reason to produce any more androids. They have money to spare, and that’s just one of the corporations that are going to shit these days. There’s money pouring out of their asses,” North said, receiving a squeeze on the palm from Markus.

 ** _Less_ _swearing,_**  he asked of her. She let go of his hand.

“You’re right, fuck them!” David exclaimed, appearing to have waded into a drunken territory.

“The issue is that those are private businesses,” Markus interjected. “We can’t legally force them to do anything with their money.”

“Markus is right,” Connor added, breaking his silence. “It isn’t in the interest of Cyberlife to aid in the freedom of androids anyway. There isn’t a feasible way to access their funds or receive donations.”

North shifted her gaze to him, wondering how on Earth he had managed to make it to dinner tonight. He should have died seven months ago.

“What do you suggest then?” North pressed, obviously irate. Her arms crossed over her chest.

“I’m not sure,” Connor withdrew. He grew silent again, faintly shaking his head as if to signal that the answer was not with him. Hank scoffed.

“You can’t expect one person to have all the answers,” he interjected, only to receive all eyes and a bout of silence. North silently placed her palms of the table. Markus shifted uneasily.

“I actually had an idea. A proposition, actually,” Yolanda broke the quiet. “Senator Peterson resigned last month, as you may or may not know.”

Josh lifted his head in curiosity, but North stiffened. Markus nodded.

“Having an android in Congress would shake things up. An android in government could tip the scales drastically,” he said.

Markus smiled deeply. He reached for North’s hand underneath the table, but she quickly pulled away.

“Markus, I think you should run for Senate. David and I are willing to sponsor your campaign, with a considerable amount of donations added from other advocates. I truly believe this is our chance to infiltrate the white-fleshed club that is our Senate,” Yolanda spoke. David grinned from ear to ear, his face reddened from his stupor. Markus opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted.

“So what happens when radical anti-android freaks find out that a robot is running for a government seat? What will prevent them from trying to murder us all?” North slid her plate of cold food away. “They’ll assassinate him in cold blood!”

“Oh honey, we’re gonna invest in security, _believe_  me,” David grinned harder, gyrating his wine glass in his hand. “I’m the first son of the United fucking States. Land of guns and beefy assholes that’ll do anything for ten thousand bucks,” he threw a haphazard nod in North’s direction. She stood.

“I’m _not_ your honey. And Markus isn’t your martyr. Find someone else.”

Markus held onto her hand once more. He threw her a pleading glance.

**_Calm down. Please._ **

“This could be a great opportunity, North. And a fleeting one. If someone else takes that seat, we don’t know when it will open back up,” Markus said.

“It could also accelerate the process of our integration into society. Humans might feel more comfortable when they see that androids are capable of making important and rational decisions on behalf of the populous,” Connor added.

“This is exactly what we wanted. If Markus is elected, that’s a major win for all androids. Months of peaceful demonstrations have led to this opportunity, we can’t possibly pass on it,” Josh articulated. He was looking at North,  his eyes wide and eyebrows arched over in the same eager expression as each other time he believed in something passionately.

“And what happens when radicals carry out their ‘Great Disassembly?’ We go back to our slums without our leader? Without money and homes?” North began to get louder with each declaration. Yolanda stood as well.

“We have no intention of that happening. Of course, the final decision is Markus’ choice, but it is our first job to ensure his safety as well as the safety of all androids,” she stated firmly.

“Starting when?” North yelled. Markus attempted to grab for her arm, but she quickly dodged.

“We are dying off at crazy rates. We can’t reproduce. We can’t be replaced. And now you’re going to finish the fucking job!” North looked at Markus, his face solemn and disapproving. Then she left the dining room. The echoing slam of the front door could be heard only a few seconds later.

There was silence. David poured some more wine but didn’t drink. Yolanda looked at Markus apologetically.

“You can’t blame her, you know,” Hank spoke up.“There’s no way to know if this will work out. And she has already lost so much.”

“We all have,” Josh chided. He looked again at his hands, holding onto utensils he had no intention of using. All eyes slowly trailed to Markus.

“He’s right. We all have. And we don’t have many options if we want to survive,” Markus added.

More silence.

“I’m in,” he said. He looked up.

Yolanda smiled.

“Oh _fuck_ yeah!” David chimed, downing his glass.


	2. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> North intends to get much-needed space from Markus but ends up missing out when she may have been needed most. Jericho may be in bigger trouble than they initially thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks to everyone that have been giving their thoughts on the story so far! It genuinely means a lot and every compliment and critique is considered!  
> That being said, this chapter was written not long after Choices. At first, I was going to release this one a few days after chapter one, but I feel that this chapter is also needed to set up exposition and really hook the story.  
> Writing action has always been hard for me, but I hope this chapter comes off less muddy and difficult to understand than its previous drafts. Thanks again for the read, and feel free to send your thoughts!

**Greek District Bus Station, Downtown Detroit**

**June 3rd, 2039**

**3:48 pm**

North sat patiently on the city bus. The glimmer of the midafternoon sun illuminated the leather satchel in her lap. It had been 8 hours since she had last been at Jericho. Still, nobody had tried to contacted her, not even Markus. She knew why-- he wanted to give her space to blow off steam-- in truth, that’s the opposite of what she wanted. She wanted him to feel guilty for even considering the Senate seat. She wanted him to apologize for it, so that everything would go back to normal. She wanted him to tell her she was right.

But Markus was never one to listen to her. From the first time they met, his contrasting ideas about revolution always took priority. When he wanted to march, they marched. When he wanted to kneel, they kneeled. When he wanted a seat in Congress, he parted seas and accepted death just to continue a docile demonstration- a facade of peace and progress. Gallons of thirium shed later, and there was still slaughter. There wasn’t an end to the risks he would take to remain nonviolent. Even if that meant forgiving the android who put Jericho into the hands of the FBI.

North clutched the sack between her arms, curling her fingers around it’s dangling straps. It was a small bookbag, and wouldn’t carry much. She had resorted to lifting credit cards off of those who still owned them--usually old people in their 70’s and above, fragile and unsuspecting. She had mastered the art of fingering through the purses on trains and in crowded areas unnoticed, and also managed to pickpocket a couple IDs. Her plan was to use that information to shop for supplies online. Already, she felt she was doing more than anything Markus had tried to accomplish in the past month. She squeezed the bottom of the bag to feel the cards flick up against each other. It felt good to take from humans. But it all the credit cards in the world wouldn’t make up for android lives. The bus came to a halt, and a detached voice pried through an intercom.

“Greektown bus stop. The time is 3:55 pm. Have a great day.”

North sat and spectated as humans and androids alike stepped off from the back of the bus. New passengers flooded in from the front, and as she casually glanced through the faces, a pair of copper-colored eyes locked on hers.

_Fuck._

It was Connor, but the moment of annoyance was quickly flooded out by indifference-- he wouldn’t try to talk to her. That’s how he was; he didn’t socialize. From the moment he aligned with Jericho, he often stood quietly, adding input only when prompted. North didn’t know if he was shy, incompetent, or just stupid. Maybe he hated her. Maybe he was a spy, commanded by Cyberlife or the government itself to oversee free androids. Regardless, North resented him with every fiber of her body. He killed Jericho. He took away their home. He left them defenseless and then fled to his human’s side. There was no way he was deviant-- but it didn’t matter. Markus forgave him. And thus, Jericho forgave him. And again, North bit her tongue.

Connor continued to approach her row of seats. She was sure he was walking past her-- possibly to stand in the back of the bus, like a true machine. Some androids still chose to do so.

He didn’t. Connor walked to North, a burlap bag around his left shoulder and his right arm holding onto the empty seat next to her.

“Do you mind if I sit next to you?” He asked plainly, looking for North’s eyes. That was another thing about him: the intense eye contact. The general awkwardness. He would just stare at you until he found something else to look at. Regardless, North felt that she had nothing to lose. In truth, there was something in the back of her mind that wanted to talk to Connor. A part that desperately needed the opportunity to tell him how she felt. To tell him where in his body she would stick her foot.

“Yeah, whatever,” she uttered, side-eying him as he adjusted himself into the seat. For a moment, they sat silently. She felt him shift to face her. She continued to look forward.

“I was at the store. I had to buy milk for Hank.”

What the _fuck_.

“How about you? Why are you on the bus?” He continued to stare.

“God, why do you still talk like you operate on a fucking program,” North turned to face him. There was emotion on his face. Embarrassment, maybe. He ran a hand through his slick brown hair and turned forward again.

“I just… I wanted to talk to you,” Connor continued. North stayed silent, flipping through witticisms in her head.

“Why are you so opposed to Markus taking a seat in the Senate? I mean I understand that it’s dangerous, but--” North quickly turned to face Connor, causing him to flinch and back away slightly.

“Why do you think you have a say in what happens? Why do you care? You live with a _human_ ,” North said, animosity rising in the back of her throat like bile. Connor continued to look forward, his expression unclear. The daylight through the window danced on his skin, brightening the features on the left of his face. His eye twitched.

 “Not just any human, but a motherfucking cop. You hunted us. You let us die. Why do you want anything to do with Jericho?” North pressed. Connor didn’t move. His lips parted, then closed again. The bus slowly maneuvered a speed bump, and the hair on his head bounced just slightly. North let out a breath. He wasn’t going to talk, of course. She didn’t know why she expected him to.

“North I… You don’t understand that I’m... I’m sorry,” he said, his expression unchanging. The left corner of his lip twitched.

“I was a machine. Maybe I still am, I don’t know,” he turned to her, eyes wide. North stared back.

“You have no obligation to trust me. I understand that you have a disdain for me. That’s okay--”

North slammed her hand on the seat behind her as she faced him. The two were inches apart, and her eyes looked deeply into his.

“I know that it’s okay. Because you ruined our lives. Fuck. You,” she said, willing her outrage to manifest and to eat Connor alive. Instead, silence filled the bus. Passengers were watching. A man with shoulder length blonde waves and a pair of blue aviators put a calm hand on Connor’s back.

The hand quickly shifted into a firm fist.

Connor smashed into North’s head first, his slick dark hair clouding her eyes and face. Before she could yell, she saw Connor on the ground underneath the tall pale man. He towered over her as she sat, his ghost-pale skin bleeding color into his straight, beige teeth. He had pushed Connor into her and pulled him onto the floor.

Connor lept to get up, but the man quickly pushed a foot against his back, rendering him unable to stand. The detective was usually quick to act, so seeing him so instantaneously taken down made North’s heart skip a beat.

“What happened to robots sittin' in the back of the bus?” The man asked, his pale, brawny arms crossing over his chest. He pushed his shades up past his temples, squinted a bit, and then gave North with a cavalier grin.

“Oh, shit! You’re a Traci!” He whooped, slapping his hands together. Connor tried to shift his arms to get up, but the man only pushed harder. A grunt escaped his lips.

“Listen asshole, I’m a person. And so is he,” she stood up.

“I’m getting yelled at by a sex droid,” the man let out another laugh and rested a hand on North’s shoulder.

She felt something in her. Whether it was confusion or unbridled rage, it made her blood thicken and tongue turn to sandpaper. It made her hands go limp, but not in fear.

“Fuck me and I’ll let him go,” the man taunted, letting out an overwrought laugh. North was too enraged to notice the terrified onlookers or to recognize that this was the only a man’s desperate endeavor for a little bit of public attention. She almost didn’t hear Connor when he choked his next words.

“I’m... I’m shutting down.” There was a trace of milky white along the back of his neck. He laid limp. North needed to act quickly.

“Now approaching Eastern Detroit. Be ready to depart in one minute.” Passengers watched in silence. _Why aren’t they helping me?_ North thought briefly, frustratedly noting the complacency of the bystanders.

Slapping his meaty hand off of her shirt, North dove to the floor to be with Connor.

 **_Where is your gun?_ ** She asked, already feeling through his salmon button down. He wasn’t hiding anything underneath. She wasn’t even sure he had one on him.

 **_Belt_ ** , he replied. She quickly began to search the waist of his pants, frenzied fingers prying around the glossy leather. His ears began to disappear into a pearly endoskeleton.

“Oh, fuck! They’re gonna fuck on the floor!” The man yelled. Passengers began to speak all at once, and the added sound made North begin to shake. She found the gun nestled between the rough cotton of his pants and his left hip. North yanked it free pointed it at the man without hesitation.

“Eastern Detroit bus stop. The time is 4:05 pm. Have a great day,”

The blonde man released his grip on Connor, who shuffled away unsteadily. North stood in the middle of the aisle and heard him rise behind her. The bus was silent. The whispered whooshing of automatic doors opening echoed in the automobile.

“I’m at the Eastern Detroit bus stop, I’d like to report an armed android in a public place.”

The voice was high-pitched, aggravating and entitled: a middle-aged woman’s. North didn’t wait to see what she looked like.

“We need to run,” she said, grabbing for Connor’s arm behind her. Before she could hear the commotion left by the altercation or the sirens to come, she pushed past the brawny man, leaving him to find his bearings on the floor with a thud. She pushed past bewildered passengers and began her race back to Jericho.

Weaving through the crowded bus stop and listening for the tapping of Connor’s feet behind her, she fled until the abandoned urban sprawl of outer Jericho came into view.

 

**Outer Jericho, Eastern Detroit**

**4:28 pm**

 

The two sat behind a fenced-in building, having had decided that they would wait out conflict. They had run far enough to warrant safety, but North couldn’t be too sure.

“You saved my ass,” Connor said. He was standing, hands in his beige slack pockets. North sat just below him, sifting through the cards in her bag and scanning each.

“You’re welcome,” she replied coldly, squinting at the pieces of printed plastic through the shadow of the oncoming evening. If it were any one of her friends, she’d be worried about how they were feeling after being roughed up so badly. But this was Connor. Connors always bounce back.

A notification came into her field of vision.

“Eighteen missed calls,” she said aloud to herself. She began to sift through the voicemail, setting it to play messages silently in hear head.

“North, I know you're upset, but do you know where Markus is? I haven’t seen him all day. Can you please try to reach him?” It was Josh. That was message number one.  North listened to the next.

“Hey, I’m starting to freak out. He won’t answer anything, and it’s been hours. Are the two of you off somewhere together? I don’t care, I just want to know that you’re safe.”

North flipped to the eighteenth.

“North, where the fuck are you? Markus is gone, and he’s got to be in trouble. I get that you’re angry, but,” he paused.

“North, I’m _scared_.”

**_End of messages._ **

North threw her cards haphazardly into her bag, scrambling to find her feet beneath her. Connor noticed and broke from his trance.  
“We’re going to Jericho. Now.”

In true Connor fashion, an explanation wasn’t necessary. Dust from the pavement trailed into the air as North began to sprint home. The two ran to Jericho’s settlements underneath the red blanket of the evening sky.


End file.
